The Ultimative non-Diary of a very Manly Man
by cucumbersaregreen
Summary: When biting Werewolves, killing Riddles, frightening Nightmares and annoying Potion Masters are only the less important problems he has, fate promises one hell of a year for Harry Potter. His looks change every day (a talk to Goblins doesn't help), but most important: Ginny Weasley is too near for comfort.This is the exclusive non-diary (*rolles her eyes*) of THE BWL. AU after GoF
1. 1 Entry: Of Manly Men Annoying Goblins

HEEEY! I don't know how far I will go with this story... but I really hope I'll find the time to write more than just this chapter! My beta is ... someone!

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR, else there wouldn't be as much deaths in DH! I only do this for fun ... and to prevent some of those people from dying!

Well ... if all the business is done ... HAVE FUN!

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1. Entry – Of Manly Men and Annoying Goblins

_I close my eyes  
Only for a moment and the moment's gone  
All my dreams  
Pass before my eyes with curiosity  
Dust in the wind  
All they are is dust in the wind  
Same old song  
Just a drop of water in an endless sea  
All we do  
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see  
Dust in the wind  
All we are is dust in the wind  
Now don't hang on  
Nothin' lasts forever but the earth and sky  
It slips away  
And all your money won't another minute buy _

_Dust in the wind_

**3  
**

I have to admit that I never did something like this, but Molly says that it's good for me ... dunno why, but ... well, trying doesn't hurt anyone, does it? No one will EVER read this and I'll definitely NEVER write _'Dear Diary' _in this bound-book-to-write-memories-and-stuff-in (NOT what you think it is!)... YEAH, I _know _I just did ... but it was a QUOTE, therefore it was written in _Italic!_ I_, _the manliest man of all manly men would _never _write those cursed words in any way, but as a quote! I am _not _a cissy and I don't care what Ron says! I _don't_ spend more than an hour in the bathroom just to look at my reflection in the mirror, like Narcissus does! You can't compare Ginny to poooor Echo! I'm not in love with my looks ..., well I must say they are quite awesome, but ... I am NOT ... you know!

I want to write down my life in here ... well not _all_ of it! That would only fit in about _seven _books (or eight movies), but I'll begin in the summer after my forth year. Cedric was dead ... Voldemort had risen from the (un)dead (I'm not really sure what he was ... he wasn't dead ... that's obviously, but don't you have to be able to die to truly live? That's sooo confusing! Is he a zombi or what?) and Dumbledore had given me answers to, well, ... about ... NOTHING. I was goddamn furious at that guy. Don't misunderstand me ... he's amazingly powerful and everything, quite a good leader ... we wouldn't be able to win the war without him as the only one Mouldy Shorts (my new nickname for him, do ya like it? I could suggest it for the people who don't like to say _his _name, it's better than you-know-who, isn't it? A bit less hyphens and all) ever feared and stuff like that, but he's only a human ... he does make mistakes! And I bet MS feared something else like ... spiders (just an example!), but they wouldn't be a great help to conquer him ...(What if the dark, menacing and extremely evil Dark Lord really and actually fears spiders?*laughs his head off while falling of his chair ... 'Ouch!' coughing _'Ron'_* HA this is my ultimate payback for him calling me that ugly word! I AM NOT A CISSY!)

Well from my awesome, amazing and whatever looks back to that cursed summer: As I stepped through my relatives door I knew the next months would be interesting ...

To someone who told me: I'm sure it is a _bit_ difficult. I'd have answered: Yeah, of course and someone with cancer is a _bit_ ill and Voldemort in truth a cute little, but a _bit_ angry bunny called Fluffy ..., ohh well maybe I should take another name ... I have way to many bad memories connected to _this_ one. Let's say ... Mr. Darcy (A friend called her _dog_ Mr. Darcy ... people nowadays *shakes his head*) Well, ... MS hadn't been last time I'd checked and that had been four weeks ago, the 24th of June, I'll probably _never_ forget that date!

My problems had started with that damn hair (well actually they had started earlier, two days before I went 'home', but what had happened then is the lesser of two evils ...). That morning, looking into the mirror in the Dursley's bathroom (I didn't really see it as my own), I realized with great shock that strands of my hair had turned light brow over the night_._ Just imagine *shudder* ... my black unruly hair with amber stripes! That's a no-go! I was looking like a chipmunk! And where the heck did I get them? And my sarcasm? I mean I was NEVER sarcastic ..., okay on special occasions, but not like this and not ALL THE TIME! I was getting weird, I was creeping myself out, my brain was collapsing, crumbling to dust! *loud mental scream* ( I think WUAHH would be a bit ridiculous, wouldn't it? )

Well, now that I'm done panicking we can continue with my amazing story:

It was the 22nd of July ... great date! Only eight days 'till my birthday, my 15th birthday! I hadn't heard anything from Dumbledore or Sirius yet and had gotten only two letters from my best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Both had said the same: Be a nice doggy and do _nothing, _we won't tell you _anything_, but behave. Well, ... _brilliant_ advise, what interesting things could I've done in a Muggle suburb? Strangle myself with begonias?

Because I was and still am an intelligent and generally brilliant fellow I had ordered the Daily Prophet when still beeing at school, but the shit (sorry) they had written over the last weeks, wasn't very reassuring. I knew it would be quite dumb to get into trouble, 'cause they would've used everything to charge me. I bet if I wouldd've held Dudley back from doing something stupid like beating up a ten year old boy, they'd probably have found a way to turn it against me, charging me in some imaginary crime like: Harry James Potter you intervened in Muggle business we are sorry to tell you that you will be executed instantly! You know I'm loony, but they didn't have to, did they? 'Harry Potter: The-boy-who-lies' an edition of the last few weeks of that crap-paper had said. NO, I was not the boy-who-just-won't-die-and-no-one-knows-why (a rhyme, ya see?) anymore, now I was the boy-who-got-loony-and-lied! For a short time I had been so extremely tempted to correct them, that I even started to write a letter:

Dear Ditsy Prophet,

I've _always_ been loony, this isn't anything new! You're just so damn dumb that you didn't notice before! Which normal kid attacks a 6ft long monster with a sword that that beast could use as a toothpick, huh? None! No, normal child is crazy enough to do that, I am! You see ... (and then the words left me ... what a pity!)

Yours sincerely

Harry James Potter

The boy-who-lived, The Liar, Potty, Scarhead, Boy, Freak

I don't think that letter would even arrive at the Headquarters of that useless newspaper I meant and much less be read from them when I address it to the Ditsy Prophet ..., but well ... what can I say ...?

Back to more important business than the useless ministry and minister: My hair! Holy crap! ... It couldn't stay like that! I wanted to have a mirror in my room, but, noooo, I had to walk to the bathroom to see it! Imagine the Dursleys would've seen me like that! My aunt and uncle would have had a fit and Dudley would've been in the hysterics ... how cruel can the world be? I didn't want to see a wannabe-whale rolling on the ground. He would probably destroy all the furniture and I would have to clean the mess! And I tell you, to clean behind Dudley is not the perfect holiday-activity.

Maybe I could've charmed my hair ..., but those monkeys from this loony bin, some call the Ministry of Magic would've noticed (as you can see I was a tat furious at the MoM, too, maybe even more than at Bumbles and my 'friends'! I really had it with furious that summer...)... and Dumbledore possibly too. I didn't have any problems with monkeys, but the disappointed look in my oh-so-perfect headmaster's weird twinkling eyes was another thing. I would've invited Mouldy Shorts over for tea with my relatives if that would have prevented Dumbledore's eyes from twinkling, ... from doing anything at all. I am sirius – no pun intended, well ... maybe... That eyes are going to kill me someday! That twinkling can't be healthy for observers, well ... his eyes in general! Maybe he has two of those magical eyes Professor Moody wears? I mean, really, those twinkling orbs can see through everything! For example in my first year he'd seen through my Invisibility Cloak ... that's just creeeeeepy! No one should be allowed to do that! I should be able to sneak out to the kitchen or other places without being noticed, like a normal schoolboy, but NOO, we have to have a barmy headmaster and especially his annoying eyes at our school ...

For more than 10 minutes now, I had stared at the ceiling of my small, dungeon-like room and found a solution for ... nothing. There had to be a way to get rid of those amber thingies in my poor, poor hair! Slowly sitting up, I massaged my sore neck. This summer was going to be the hell on earth! First my hair and then ... this other thing. I had counted, of course ... on the 23rd of July, I would ..., well that thing would occur. I'd know that I would need potion for that and convinced my relatives (,with a little help of my great friend money!) to drive me to Diagon Alley and _don't_ just drop me of and leave. Potions are generally easy to find in the wizarding world, because every Apothecary and MMC (Magical Medical Centre) has them, but I had had to make a visit to Knockturn Alley to buy this particular one. And let me tell you: It tastes disgusting! I can't recommend it! If someone would ask me if I would like to drink Polyjuice Potion or this stuff, I would take the first one with joy! That means: It tastes worse than goblin-piss!

It is 6 o'clock, yeeey! That meant the Dursleys would be up in three hours ... and I'd've to make breakfast. Good that they were still frightened of the baaaad 'mass-murderer' Sirius, else I would've probably been dead by now! They don't like me very much ... the Dursleys. But they are my only living relatives and the dumb-old-dork said something about 'protection' whenever I tried to talk him into letting me go somewhere else in the following summers. It would've been brilliant to know what _kind_ of protection that is, because I didn't know whether Aunt Petunia can do Kung Fu or something like that ... , but I highly doubted it!

To stand up is always the most difficult task ... My back hurt, because my mattress was as thin as paper, I could've been sleeping on the ground and it wouldn't have made a difference. Walking through the hallway, I tried to make as much noises as a dead corpse (to those who don't know: dead man don't move, talk or generally make any sounds). Snorts, cracks of beds and the wind outside was everything I heard. Finally ... the door! My muscles had been already sore from my be- no ... instrument of torture and now I had to flex all of them to be as quiet as I could... ouch!

You may think that I'm a cissy, 'cause I desperately wanted to look in a mirror and made a fuzz about my hair ..., but honestly what would you do if your hair suddenly changes colours? And I don't mean like it gets paler over years or stuff like that ... no. My hair had changed over a night from jet black to auburn. That's not normal! The reflection that stared back at me from the mirror looked nearly as always, except for three red strands of hair on my forehead. My face was pale, I had an angular jaw, a bit less angular than normally, if I recall correctly, striking emerald green eyes and that bloody scar on my forehead ... Ohhh, if I just were able to ... wait! Hermione had given me a book about it! Well not Metamorphmagi in particular ... It's called '_Do you have special powers_?'. As fast as I could, while listening for signs of waking Dursleys, I went back to my room to rummage through my stuff. Some where in my suitcase, ohhh nooo, I had put it on the bookshelf! There it was! The cover was pink, ... yuck! With green writing ... double yuck! Well, 'Mione would probably read EVERY book! For her it doesn't matter if it looks like a shrill girl magazine. The problem is she would give you every book as a birthday present, too. I don't mind if she reads what she wants, but when she starts giving those books to someone with the danger of embarrassing that person it gets creeeeepy! The cover felt like it was sparkled with those little glittering plastic thingies that you can find everywhere you don't want them to be, as I opened it, which was probably even true (triple yuck).

_Index:_

_Every page a new Skill!_

_I. Passed Skills:_

_Are you a Seer?_

_Are you a Veela?_

_Are you a natural Legilimense? _

_Are you a natural Occlumense?_

_Are you a Metamorphmagus?_

_II. Individual Skills:_

_Do you have it in you to become an Animagus?_

_How powerful are you?_

_How skilled are you in:_

_Transfiguration?_

_DADA?_

_Charms?_

_Herbology?_

_Arithmanthy?_

_CoMC?_

_Ancient Runes?_

_Divination?_

_Flying?_

_How charismatic are you?_

_III. Tests:_

_Are you a natural leader?_

_Are you popular?_

_What House do you really belong in?_

_Which popular guy is your dream-boy? (Harry Potter, Gilderoy Lockheart, Victor Krum, etc.)_

_What is your future job?_

_What would your Patronus be?_

_What would your Animagus be?_

_Will you have magical children?_

_What blood-status does your dream-boy have?_

WOW, a whole bunch of trash! Should I make the dream-boy-test, only to see if I get myself? Noooo, that would be low! I flipped to page 5! Uhhh, the paper made noises, I desperately hoped that nobody would wake up! Even the writing _inside_ of the book was green *shudder* ...

_Page 5: Are you a Metamorphmagus?_

_Metamorphmaguses are very rare and mostly born inside of ancient families. In the whole time wizards and witches registered them only two Muggleborns with that unique gift were known. It develops in a young age, therefor the hair colour of toddlers and small children changes between 10 and 2 times a week. Until the Metamorphmagus (Mmm) learns to control his Skill it stays like that. The process of changing starts with the concentration of the Mmm. He pictures himself with the eye, hair, skin colour or generally the face shape he wants. There are only a few of these few that are able to change their whole body. These selected people can change from a nine year old boy into an old lady in a few minutes without any potions or spells._

_If you want to test weather you have that gift or not, try the little exercises below:_

_If you want to do something that doesn't cost anything:_

_Position yourself in front of a mirror and close your eyes. Concentrate on your eyes and picture your head with green hair. If you don't have a mirror near you, you can try to change your fingernails to get longer. All in all it would be easier to change hairs, because its a natural process of Mmms._

_If that doesn't work try this:_

_Take the Bloodtest-Potion. It is obtainable in most Apothecaries and MMCs and costs around 100 Galleons. This potion will show you your magical relatives, it will not show Sqibs or magical creatures, such as Werewolves and Veelas, weather you have Veela or Vampire blood. It will also tell you if you are a Werewolf, Metamorphmagus, Seer or natural Occlumence/Legilimence. Additionally it will say weather you are capable of becoming an Animagus, but that depends on your age. If you are under 13 it is nearly impossible for you to be able to do that and even when you are older you might not be strong enough. Only a few witches and wizards are. _

Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Where the heck should I get that Blood(y)test-Potion from? Trying to change my fingernails wasn't an option. What if Dudley or another Dursley came in and saw them growing or if nothing happened at all. And this test would tell me much more! I hoped nobody besides me could see the result of it ... It would've been disastrous if somebody found out ..., well ... shit!

The next moment I grabbed the Daily Prophet without really thinking (I _can _think! Just not ... then) about it and started going through the announcements, making a cross next to everyone of them concerning potions.

'BOOOOOOY!'

Oh, no! I hadn't realized how late it was! The best way of stopping a growing argument was to shout back ... (not in all cases, but in this case ... definitely!)

'YEES, UNCLE VERNON?'

'COME HERE THIS INSTANT!'

Uh-uh that did not sound good ... Besides I couldn't go downstairs ... if they saw me like that. Just containing a shudder I thought furiously and then grabbed the next best headgear I could find in my suitcase ... it was a cap which pressed my hair into my eyes. Well, you can't have everything, can you? It covered the red-amber-whatever streaks on my forehead at least. Raising down the stairs and making as less noise as possible I looked out for my uncle. Well he wasn't really a person to overlook. First: He was fat like a cow, but I think you could better compare him to a gigantic and ugly walrus (I like to see my relatives as little zoo: walrus, horse, pig and MUCH entertainment!). Second: His face was always as red as a stop-sign (A _red_, gigantic and ugly walrus). Don't know whether that changed ... Haven't seen him in a long while now ... Well anyways: I found him in the kitchen ... eating! Obviously! What else? I hadn't even made breakfast yet ...

'Boy, why are you wearing this ridiculous hat?'

'I want to try to press my hair down on my head ... permanently, sir!'

Ha, I'm brilliant! I was and I will always be! He couldn't say no to that one! He's always been complaining about my hair. And as predicted ... by me, of course (who else *rolls his eyes*) his face lost some of his redness before he talked again, now a bit calmer.

'Good. See that it works, boy, I don't want that everyone sees your freakishness on the first glance! Now, make breakfast and make it good, else you will get nothing fort he NEXT WEEK.' (when I say calmer ... I don't mean like not screaming or stuff, just ... anyways)

'Yes, sir, of course! But don't forget ... my godfather, you know Sirius Black, the mass murderer ... I guess he would be offended if I told him that you starve me and he might even drop by. And well, ... what would the neighbours think? Sir?'

'You will tell him no such thing! Do you understand me? ... Just be fast!'

Vernon got white as a paper as I mentioned my dogfather and he seemed rather frightened to me, not of me, but of the 'crazy-maniac' friend of my parents. Baking beans and making scrambled eggs, I had enough time to think about this goddamn potion ... Even if I bought it would someone have been able to trace it? Like Bumbles or Mouldy Shorts? But it wouldn't be overly interesting for them, that I tried to find out ... well yes actually it would be! They would've wanted to know what abilities I have. Oh, ... my life sucks! Why the heck did my skin under the annoying cap had to itch the moment I was thinking that? Did it do that on purpose? To make my life suck even more? As the breakfast was done, I had my fair share and then walked upstairs, entered my room and closed its door behind me to shut out possible intruders like ... Dudley, the pig. Standing in my room I looked around myself, uncertain. What should I do now? After a while I decided to sit down on my bed, grabbed the Ditsy Prophet again to look through the results of my search. All in all twenty-three possible sellers, but only two of them seemed professional or secretive enough to be trusted. An Apothecary called 'Poisons and Antidotes' and a, from the pictures a little bit shabby seeming divination-shop called 'Find your Inner strength'. I guessed it would be better if I take the second one, because no one would suspect me to buy a potion like that in a shop with such a name and reputation. Well, no sane person would, but they seemed trustworthy and maybe less professional than the apothecary, but even more secretive (if you give them the right money) and I don't have to _drink _that potion...

Writing a letter to them was difficult. I hate to write formal letters, ... so, ... it took time.

* * *

After a good nights sleep I opened my eyes and welcomed another day. Well, it wasn't really day yet ... the sun wasn't even up... just 5 o'clock, but that has been the time I usually woke up since probably the day I was dumped at the Dursley'S doorstep. This night I hadn't had any nightmares, which was rather amazing. After all I had seen someone die in front of my very own eyes and my situation couldn't be called good. A killing maniac on my heels and this other ... No, I didn't want to think about it! NOT now! In two days I would have no other choice, but now I just wanted to see if I already had gotten a reply of that shop. Standing up slowly I glanced out of the window, seeing my face in the glass my breath stocked. Ohh no! Another change! My hair laid flat on my head now. The only positive effect of that was, that my scar was hidden behind the fringe! Focusing on the sky outside of the window, I searched it and saw ... well: Nothing! But maybe it had been a bit much to expect... I mean Hedwig is a fast flier, but that would've been too fast, even for her. I thought about doing some homework ... I had been able to convince my relatives to leave my stuff in my room this year (While mentioning my dear escapee dogfather, of course). I already had done my potions-essays. The Bat assigned three that summer, THREE! Mark my words: The man is going to kill me someday! He will just let me work myself to death. But what was even worse: To my utter shock: I had liked it! I had _liked_ writing essays,... _Potions essays._ It's like I was turning into a second Hermione! It was horrible! I was going even more nuts!

Mhh, well, ... now to McGonnagal's ... write an essay on Cross-Species Transfiguration ... uhhh. I knew we had done that already last year, she probably just wanted to check if we had truly memorized it. I knew that Ron would have some problems with that one. Why? Because he surly hadn't memorized anything of his schoolwork, that would've last in his brain for over three weeks and wouldn't do the essay until the last week of holidays ... that's why! Don't misunderstand me! Ron is quite intelligent, for example if you would ask him he could've told you nearly every player in the English Quidditch-league of that time, but schoolwork and learning was never high on his list of favourite activities ... It hadn't been on my list either, before that summer. I had changed and I knew it ... I like the feeling of learning something new now ... the knowledge, that you can solve a problem you would have had difficulties with before. It is amazing now and it was even more then! And the surge of power when you get a spell right, or the triumph of succeeding in a potion! Ohh ... I could talk like this for hours and I wouldn't get tired of it!

What truly was frightening was that I had no clue what had brought this change in my learning-mentality. One day on the beginning of the second week I just had had the urge to read my schoolbooks properly. Not just skim over the pages to get just as much information as needed as I always had done, but to really understand what it says. After that, schoolwork had become my new friend. I did it when I'm frantic, nervous or bored and it helps, even now years later, it is some kind of stress release to work on something that involves books. I'd gone over my Potions-essay three times and always changed something in wording or information and I had written one foot more than necessary. The Bat would probably think, that it wasn't me who wrote it, but well ... he could've asked me anything he wanted about fourth and even parts of fifth year stuff, I would've known it. As I had payed a visit to Knockturnalley I already had bought some books to entertain myself over the summer. Mostly DADA, Charms and Quidditch books though, nothing really difficult, because the learning-flu hadn't quite possessed me that time. Now I regretted to not have bought more advanced books ... besides ...

Sighing I leaned back ... Two scrolls of parchment, well that was ... something. McGonnagal was going to be baffled when she was seeing that ... I grinned. That was such an amazing thought! McGonnagal ... BAFFLED! Drowned in my mental images of Hogwarts's Transfiguration Professor's face I suddenly heard a sharp knocking on my window. Hedwig! I had totally forgotten the time, it was almost nine o'clock . The Dursleys would be up soon ... Hastily I stood up and hurried to open the window and let Hedwig inside my room. She had a heavy envelope and a small package bound to her feet. It looked just as if a potions vial would fit in it. Cautiously to not shake Hedwig to much up I took the burden of her. First I opened the letter ... some words, that everything would be treated secretly ... ahhh, there! The operating instructions ...

_**ATTENTION: Do not use this potion if you are under five, over hundred or/and chronically ill! Do not use it on Muggles or Squibs!**_

What did they meant with chronically ill? I ... well! Forget about it ... I would just have to take it and see what happens.

_**If used properly this potion will tell you:**_

_your blood-status (Pureblood, magical grandparents; Halfblood, at last one magical parent; Muggleborn, both parents are Muggles)_

_your full name and if you are adopted both pairs of parents' names_

_whether you have special abilities, such as: Parslemouth, Metamorphmagus, Seer, natural Occlumense or Legilimense_

_your magical relatives (no Squibs, Muggles, Werewolves, Veelas or other magical creatures)_

_whether you have Veela blood or are a magical creature yourself, such as: Werewolf or Veela_

_whether you have serious illnesses_

_whether you are capable of becoming an Animagus_

_**How to use the Bloodtest-Potion:**_

_open the package and take the blank piece of parchment and the potion out of it_

_open the potion _

_**ATTENTON: Do not drink this potion! Do not breeze in its fume!**_

_use a sharp instrument, such as a knife, scissors or a needle to make a small cut in one of your hands or another place on your body you prefer_

_drop blood drop by drop into the potion until it has a dark purple colour_

_wait until the colour turns orange again (this can take between 1-5 minutes)_

_slowly put the potion on the blank piece of parchment_

_wait until lines have been build by the potion_

_**ATTENTION: Do not touch the parchment during that process! Wait until the potion has been fully absorbed by it!**_

_after this you should see 11 lines and a family tree on the parchment_

_if a 'no' is written after something it means you do not posses what is written before the colon_

_if a 'yes' is written after something it means you do posses what is written before the colon_

_**WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE INFORMATION THIS POTION GIVES! **_

_** YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SUE US IF YOU DO NOT AGREE WITH WHAT YOU SEE!**_

Thank you very much for this piece of information! Operation instruction – writer can't be a well paid job ...

Ooookay! Where can I get a ... of course my knife for Potions! I rummaged through my stuff and found it quite quickly under some dirty socks ... yuck! That wasn't very hygienic ...

I open the package and took out parchment and potion. While taking the stopper out of the vial filled with a deep orange potion, I read the operations instructions another time. Mhh ... _wait until the lines ..., _yuck! I instantly hoped it wouldn't be too long! I hated waiting, I still do! Who doesn't? Slowly dropping blood in it I carefully watched the potion. There! Purple! Yeah, perfect! Now waiting I stared out of the window to distract myself while thinking about my future. If I survive the war that would surely begin in the next two years I would have a damned life, if someone finds out ... and even if they don't ...! I wouldn't be able to see Professor Lupin after my first ... well. He would smell it! How could I stay away from him? It's not that he would be able to smell it if I am able to use some protection charms, but... if he touches me ... he would now. That was my greatest fear ... he COULDN'T! I would be even more damned! I threw a short glance over to the potion ... ohhh! It was orange again. Hastily I sat up and started pouring the liquid on the parchment. Watching as it spread over the parchment and some strands reach the edge, but nothing leaves it. This time I watched the whole progress, as the potion to my fascination formed lines and words. Three minutes later all of it was fully sucked into the parchment, Ohhh my ... WHAT?

_Blood-status: Halfblood _(Surprise, surprise!)

_Name: **unknown**; parents: Lily Rosalie Evans and **unknown **_(What the h-...)

_Harry James Potter; adoptive parent: James Jonathan Potter_

_Parslemouth: YES_

_Metamorphmagus: Partial (only facial transformation) _(never thought I really would be ... well, from what part of my family did I inherit that? The big-mysterious-**unknown?)**

_Seer: NO _(peew, that would have been tooo weird! I suck at Divination!)

_Natural Legilimense: NO _(have read about that ... isn't it like ... mind-reading?)

_Natural Occlumense: NO _(and that the defence?)

_Veela blood: NO _

_Magical creature: YES _(duhh ... *rolls his eyes*)

_Serious illnesses: NO_

_Capable of Animagustransformation: YES _(YEEEAH! Finally some good news!)

What the ...? My MUM cheated on my dad? With whom? A Muggle? Squib? Werewolf? Veela... ohh do male Veelas even exist? The parchment slipped out of my hand and landed in the dust under my bed. I didn't even want to know how my family tree looks like! Probably a bunch of people I had never even heard of ... I had to get out of there ... For a few days ... Where? Diagon Alley!

'BOOOOOY!'

I should've ignored him! But noooo, I had to talk to him ... I HAD to go! Slowly I descended the stairs to face my uncle. Of course without forgetting the very useful and totally annoying cap, my wand and Invisibility Cloak. Hedwig had flown out of the window again ... probably to go hunting ... that was good ...I didn't have to take her with me.

'Yes, Uncle Vernon?'

'Make breakfast, boy!'

'Mhh, noo... I don't think that I'll do that today, sir! I have to go outside for a bit!'

'You WHAT? MAKE breakfast NOW, you FREAK!'

'No, I will NOT! And think about my godfather before you make any rash decision, you might regret them! You know I write him everyday and he's very interested in knowing how I am, so...'

It would have been quite funny to see him deflate like a gigantic red walrus-balloon, but I didn't really care about anything funny that time.

'Yes, yes ... go then! It would be a joy if you just stay away. We will be gone anyway today. We'll not be here the next three days...'

'Okay, okay ..., but I can't promise that I won't come back. Dumbledore, my headmaster, would probably send me here anyways sooo, see you soon, Uncle Vernon!'

Leaving my 'home' I walked down the street and behind the corner I sat down on the road curb. To change my appearance I just had to take of my cap and wooosh I only just had a a very slight resemblance with the Harry Potter everyone knew. My hair was now only a dark shade of brown. It looked like someone had secretly bleached it at night, I hadn't seen that in the window ... the light ... possibly ... and it was _tame. _Somehow it was nice to look different, because every time I met someone new they immediately compared me to my father ... well _adoptive_ father. Sitting there in the middle of that abandoned street I tortured my brain with the same topic. Why did I look different than barely two days ago? Why did I look like him anyway? I mean ... shouldn't I look like my _real_ father? Who the heck _is_ my real father? Did my new looks resemble _him_? It was quite a confusing situation. I had always believed that James Potter was my father, some people had hated me and some loved me for it and suddenly ... some unknown man takes his place ... quite ... unsettling. Soon another question shot through my brain: Why did I see James Potter in the Mirror of Erised? Mhh ... maybe because he was what I desired ... my _father. _I didn't think that anyone knew about this ... not even Dumbledore. Snape didn't have a reason to hate me now ... everything had to have a good side, didn't it? Slowly I stood up and raised my right hand, with my wand clutched in my lightly shaking fingers. BOOOM. Ohh, how I love the Knight Bus! The blue and way to high bus appeared in front of me and promptly Stan the conductor jumped out of it, talking slightly bored and with a heavy Londoner accent.

'Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening...'

Stan hadn't changed in two years at all, had he? And he still read his small speech of off a dirty looking piece of parchment, but I interrupted him. I wasn't really interested in listening him talking about ... whatever ... nothing, actually. Who would?

'Hello, I want a ride to the 'Leaking Cauldron', please.'

'And who might you be?'

'Christopher Smith.'

'Then ... welcome to the Knight Bus, Mr. Smith.'

I entered. The interior of the Knight Bus had definitely changed. The beds ,that had occupied it last time I had travelled with the infamous vehicle, had apparently been exchanged by in groups arranged fluffy seats, that strongly reminded me of the Gryffindor Common Room. I payed, walked to one of them and slumped into it. The next moment the Knight Bus disappeared from Privet Drive and appeared in some big city and I had to hold on the seat to avoid being knocked into the next window. My thoughts started to wander again ... What am I going to do in Diagon Alley? I could get a room in the 'Leaky Cauldron' and practise to change my appearance. Nobody can see me like that ... not with the name Harry Bloody Potter! That would bring up a lot of uncomfortable questions ... and the Daily Prophet. I groaned, ohh no! They would make it into a big story. Possibly involving me and some aliens, coming to conquer the earth ... or unknown creatures from the pit of some deep hole ... or they would make a ridiculous love story out of it ... maybe with Mouldy Shorts as my father ... I groaned again. Only one thing was sure: I had to stay for at least two days!

'Mr. Smith ... Mr. Smith? We're at the Cauldron!'

'Wuhh ... What? Oh, yeah, thank you!'

Before I left the bus I looked around, nobody of the other witches and wizards in the bus had even noticed me. That's BRILLIANT! That meant I could freely walk around, without people staring at that bloody scar! After entering the little shabby pub, no Muggle seemed to notice, I walked up to the counter. A toothless grin spread over the hosts face as he saw an unknown visitor.

'Ahhh, my name is Tom, how can I help you, sir?'

'I want to book a room in here for three days, please.'

'One night costs 23 galleons ... mhh... and under what name should I book this room?'

'Christopher Smith.'

'Aha ... ooookay. Room number 274, Mr. Smith!'

'Thank you, sir!'

'Have a good day, Mr. Smith!'

'You too, sir!'

I didn't want to go into the room. I really needed fresh air. Going trough the backdoor of the pub, tipping my wand against the right bricks, I entered Diagon Alley. Every single time I look through the arch-like entrance onto the busy street I am amazed! It is so obviously magical that it's incredible that the Muggles can't feel the magic leaking of that place. It looked exactly like it had done in my first year: A wide busy street snakes her way between hundreds of shops of different sizes. Apothecaries, full of glibbery parts of animals in luminescent vials, cauldron shops, candy shops, their show cases full of lollipops and other more magical sweets, normal shops, like Flourish and Blott's, the bookshop, with tons and tons of different books (Hermione loves that place) or Madam Malcim's shop, selling robes for every occasion. Everyone should have visited Ollivander, 'making the best wands in Britain since 382BC' or eaten ice-cream at Florien Fordescue's ice-cafe, who makes the best ice-cream I have ever tasted, at least once. Sadly I wasn't thinking about nougat-ice-cream or (luckily) slimy animal limbs, but my plans for the day. I wanted to go to Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank run by goblins and nearly impossible to rob, to get some money. Well ... first I had to check if I was still able to do that, ... after all ... James Potter isn't my father.

Trailing down the street I passed the shops and heard some of the people whisper about me "Completely loony this Potter-guy ...", "Wouldn't let my children near him!" and about Dumbledore "I'm thinking about taking my son out of that school ... imagine what could happen with that barmy man as headmaster!". I certainly must admit Professor Dumbledore is a bit abnormal with his eccentric robes and *shudder* ... Lemon Drops. That is, by the way, another habit of Albus Dumbledore that is driving me even more crazy than I already am! It's melting my brain! In the last month I had thought about starting a petition: Albus Dumbledore should stop his eyes from twinkling and never EVER hand out Lemon Drops again! Wouldn't that be great? I bet Mouldy Shorts would sign! ... Well back to the muttering people. Dumbledore is crazy ... well ... duh, Sherlock! But why react now? He had beem batty at the beginning of my first school year (Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Remember?), but then nobody had cared about it! Even Percy greatest-fan-of-the-Ministry Weasley had said he is brilliant! Only because he said that I-don't-know-who was back they shunned him ... that's not a reason! I don't detest Malfoy only because he is a pureblooded brat, do I? NO, I have other reasons! For example that he ... well ... it doesn't matter! Back to the story:

Gringotts was it's ever impressing and intimidating self ... gigantic and full of goblins, standing behind their desks, looking at diamonds as big as fists and blocks of golds and having grim expressions on their faces, as if they have no humour at all ... well, I guess they don't. Slowly walking through the Great-Hall-big entrance hall, looking behind the highest and biggest counter I saw the nastiest looking Goblin that lives on this fascinating blue planet. Why do they have to do that? To persuade visitors not to rob the bank?... As if 9ft long dragons weren't enough. Didn't Hagrid talk about that in my first ye- ...

'How can I help you?'

How I hate it when people disrupt my musings ...

'Yes, (I swiftly glanced at the counter, searching for the goblin's name, unfortunately I wasn't successful) ... euh ... Mister Goblin. I'm sorry, I don't know your name ...'

'My name is not important, Sir!'

He seemed quite pissed ... brilliant! What did I do now? I just wanted to be polite! I breathed in deeply to be able to answer the irritating goblin as calmly as possible.

'I am sorry, sir if I offended you in any way ...I didn't know ...'

He just stared at me and I shifted uncomfortably under his glance and resumed as I got no response apart from that.

'My name is Harry Potter and I would like to know, if there is any way to access my vault without the key.'

'That depends on the reason the key is missing, Mister Harry Potter.'

'I don't have it in my possession... I actually never did ...The last few times I came others had it sooo ...'

I let my words trail out to emphasize my need for help.

'Mhh, well, Mister Harry Potter, if it is a vault created for a child the key should be hold by you. Do you want to continue this conversation in a bit more ... _private_ environment?'

'That would be great, sir!'

I was quite thrilled by that idea. Shooting me a confused look at my obvious enthusiasm, the goblin stood up from his high chair and I followed him out of the giant hall into a way smaller hallway and through a door, entering an office-like room. The small creature walked behind the desk in front of the window and sat down.

'Well, take a seat, Mr. Potter'

Pointing at the padded chair he continued to stare at me. I looked around the room: a window, two seats in front of a giant bureau, some small shelves loaded with piles of a bit dusty files and thick books about banking, written by goblins with extremely ridiculous names... I mean, who the heck names his baby Gornuck the Conqueror? Finally my gaze shifted back to the unnamed goblin and I reluctantly sat down.

'So ...'

But the goblin interrupted me, eyeing me, as if I was a curious creature he couldn't quite fathom.

'You don't look like the Harry Potter I saw five years ago. I know that you wizards change during some phases ..., but I never heard of one whose hair colour and jawline changed so drastically. Did you use a potion to achieve that? I would understand that of course, with your reputation. I am only sure that you are indeed the one wizard you are describing yourself as, because the Lying-detector didn't show any ... mhh irregularities. The problem is, that no potions were detected ... If you would use them to conceal your identity to prevent ... unwanted attention, that is fine with me, but those potions would be unknown to the goblin nation and therefore probably illegal. '

'I trust that everything said in this room stays here?'

The goblin glared at me rather offendedly. Brilliant, what did I do this time?

'Of course! It is the first rule goblin children learn! In contrary to wizards we provide absolute secrecy and pride ourselves to be incorruptible!'

'I just wanted to be sure. Well ...I truly am Harry Potter, but ... there have been small changes in my look during the last few days ...'

I continued to tell my story (maybe he could help me?) under the watchful, but curious eyes of the goblin. As I finished he sighed and leaned nearer to me, it nearly looked like a small bow.

'I am honoured by your trust Mr. Potter and I would like to repay that. My name is Ragnuk and I am ancestor of the great 'Ragnuk the First'. The reason I didn't say my name is that higher ranked goblins have quite a bit of privacy ... it is a matter of honour, to keep one's name a secret.'

Thanks to the fact that my History of Magic teacher known as Valium or more commonly as Professor Binns has the talent to put everyone asleep in a few minutes, I had not the slightest idea who Ragnuk's Raknuk-ancestor was. A few seconds I argued with myself whether to ask or not. My curiosity won, as always.

'I am sorry, Mr. Ragnuk, but unfortunately I have an a bit ...lets say ... _incompetent_ professor in History of Magic and, well I don't want to offend or anything, but I have no idea who your ancestor is. Could you help me out?'

The goblin frowned and continued to stare at me with his pricing glare. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. I shifted under his gaze, avoiding his eyes and therefore staring at his nose. It was much to big for his head!

'I admire your curiosity, Mr. Potter. Not many of your race would have the bravery to ask such a thing ... or would even care. They look down upon others. I can't say that I like many wizards, but you ... you interest me!. (he trailed of) To answer your question: 'Ragnuk the First' was a very popular and powerful goblin king. He created many strong weapons, such as the sword nowadays known as 'the Sword of Gryffindor' which truly belongs to me (he frowned)... you must understand, Mr. Potter ... we don't believe that it is right to pass something on to your descendant that was not made by yourself or conquered from another man, goblin or whatever creature it is. Unfortunately ... well .. wizards don't obey to the rules of others even if they sign contracts made with those. Don't you think they should? After all ... it is goblin law! Don't you think they should obey our laws if they enter our buildings ... _our_ area? If they do business in it? We hold their money for several generations until now ... '

The question caught me of guard. I had listened with interest, but I had no idea what to answer to that. I didn't want to insult the goblin and understood his main arguments. If I enter the house of a friend and especially stranger I followed their rules or leave. Gringotts can be compared to that even though it is a business and not a family home, but if a sign in a bookstore says 'Don't eat in this area' you don't do it, do you? (Well, most people wouldn't) They have the right to have their own laws, but maybe they could come up with a compromise to get both sides what they want. I cautiously voiced my thoughts. Ragnuk seemed rather baffled.

'I never heard a human agree with someone of my race! But I think we should go back to business. We can continue this discussion another time, maybe.'

I didn't care to correct him. After all I am not quite _human_ anymore.

'Yes. I think that is best, Mr. Ragnuk.'

The goblin opened a drawer in the desk and fetched a crystal-like stone out of its depth. I could practically _see _the magic pulsing around it.

'This particular stone can create one or more of Gringotts' keys if you drop a drop of blood on it. If you are the heir of Potter, which is rather likely, because you were the only son of the last Lord Potter if only by everything but blood, ... he adopted you, after all... you should have more than one key. The Ancient and Noble House of Potter is very old and even richer, but you must always hold in mind that you will not be able to use most of the created keys until you reached maturity, which would be, by human law your 17th birthday. If you true father has a vault in Gringotts, that means he can't be a Muggle, we may be able to identify him by the key. The only problem is, that if we do so, I would be obliged to inform him that another key was made.'

Ohh shit! I don't want him to know! Who ever it is! It would only create more problems! And of course I feared that he would just ignore me or even worse treat me like the Dursleys do!

'Is there a way to let the stone only create the Potter vaults' keys?'

He nodded. His ears tottered quite like those of a house-elf. Why do I always notice stuff like that?

'Yes there is a way ...'

He leaned over the stone and touched it with the rather sharp-looking fingernail of his pinky. The thing immediately started to glow and Ragnuk made choking and guttural sounds. That was the moment I realized how many similarities Gobbledegook had with German. I bet they would have no problems to communicate! **1**

'That would be it, Mr. Potter! Now I need some of your blood!'

He passed me a small but evil-looking knife. It was extremely sharp! I only had to touch my finger with it and blood started pouring out of the small cut the knife had immediately made. Curiously the blood didn't leave the blade, but gathered itself at the tip of it. That was probably one of the oh-so-intelligent charms the goblins had laid on the instrument. Giving it back to Ragnuk, I noticed that it shimmered slightly and as the goblin let the blood run of the it drop by drop I was relieved that the creepy-magical-stone finally stopped glowing and pulsing. The magic had given me quite a headache, I hadn't been able to concentrate properly! With fascination I watched as a small key, that seemed to be the exact copy of my old one, emerged out of the depth of the crystal-thingy. I picked it up and looked at it closely, wondering ...

'It isn't the right one, Mr. Potter. You wouldn't be able to access that vault!'

The goblin seemed rather amused, which I found quite annoying, but his answer surprised me (even more annoying!).

'But it looks exactly like the key Hagrid gave to you five years ago!'

Now Ragnuk made cackling noises, it took me nearly half a minute to realize that he was laughing at me. Could this situation get more annoying? I don't want to use that word so much!

'Every Gringotts key looks the same to the eye of a wizard. Sometimes I think your race is quite blind! You can't even see the different between goblin-made and human-made artifacts.'

I kept quiet. His words were true after all. I really did see no differences!

My non-existent patient started to leave me as the last key dropped out of the stone. I wanted to try it, try to find the right key, the one I already used. It was a challenge and I had never been able to resist those.

'May I try to find the key I can use?'

'Of course! Why not?'

He didn't seem to believe that I would be able to do it, which was another reason to try. I can be quite stubborn if it comes to stuff like that..Leaning over the keys I inspected them closely. It were four, one of them looking rather old, I don't know why, I always thought goblin-made things don't get old . Well, I was completely sure that mine didn't, so I shoved that one aside, leaving only three. I leaned even closer, my nose now only an inch away from the neatly polished tabletop, it smelled like the nail polish of my aunt mixed with old wood. Why do I always think of the unimportant stuff when I try to concentrate? Maybe I'm cursed? I tried to focus back on the damn keys and to remembered which of those was the first one to appear. After finding it I put it to the other separated one and I felt rather smug, only two were left. I picked them up and my good spirits left me. I couldn't feel or see a difference! A few moments I thought about licking the keys to see if their taste wasn't the same, but it wouldn't really help, would it? After all I hadn't had put the original key in my mouth ... so I wouldn't know which one it was, even if the tastes differed and I highly doubted that. Why ...? Why can't I just see it? After staring at them for over 5 minutes I sighed in defeat.

'I give up, Mr. Ragnuk. My eyes really are bad!'

'That will change soon. After your first...'

'WHAT?'

I looked up at him so fast, that my spine made some funny noises. It hurt and I bet it will hurt even more in a few hours. What was the man, sorry ... _goblin _talking about?

'Ohh, your blood told me your little ... secret ...'

'My little secret? You call _that_ a '_little_ secret'?'

'Well... we goblins have no problems with ...'

'Please don't ...'

My breath hitched. _Don't think about it! Don't think about it! Don't ... _The mantra circled through my brain (yes I have one!) over and over again, leaving no space for any happy thoughts.

'Just don't talk about it. It is a curse and it will follow me my whole bloody _life_!'

'Some men are able to life with it, Mr. Potter! Thing about tha ...'

'I don't _want_ to life with it!'

All happy memories were swept out of my head, as the sarcasm that had helped me so much, left me alone within darkness. It had coated my despair with irony and jokes, helped me to get over Cedric's death, helped to make the nightmares less bad, less hurting. Those nightmares were one of the reasons I always were up at 5 o'clock in the morning, one of the reason I was to frightened of falling asleep _ever_ _single_ night. I lived the worst memories I had of my life over and over again in my dreams:

My mother's and father's pleading voices shortly before they died mixed with Voldemort's cruel high laugh (sometimes I think he sounds like a woman ... well, yeah, not the right moment to talk about that, is it?); the Dementors circling Hermione, Sirius and me at the Lake on the Hogwarts Grounds; Ron abandoning me for that bloody tournament; Ginny lying on her back, lifeless in the Chamber of Secrets; Ron being hit by the stone-made Queen on the magical chessboard created by Professor McGonnagal; Hermione lying in the Hospital Wing as lifeless and cold-skinned as said Queen; Wormtail fleeing and then killing Cedric; Voldemort's resurrection; fighting Voldemort in the Chamber, for the Philosopher's Stone, on the graveyard, over his father's bones, in the Forbidden Forest; ... running; ... my parents coming out of his wand; ... their voices; ... Barty Crouch Jr.; ... and this last one ... this last one ... the Bite ... so much pain, fear, despair; ... just give up, just give up, Harry Potter, after all, to the well-organized mind, _death_ is but the next great adventure.**2 **Dumbeldore said that, so it should be true ... It can't be that bad then ... dying, can it?

'Mr. Potter, Mr Potter ... are you okay?'

Well, duh ... did I look like that? Hearing the voice of Ragnuk, I realized that I was kneeling on a cold stone floor clutching my head, that was throbbing like a bludger just hit it. Something was lasing the goblins voice ... was it concern? I only managed to murmur, my voice so fragile that it cracked after every word, like a tree in a hurricane (not in the eye of the storm of course, there would not even be enough wind to crack a blade of grass let alone a full grown tree).

'It is okay ... just ... could you lead me to my vault, please?'

'Of course, Mr. Potter! Come along.'

You remember how I said to stand up would always be the moth difficult thing? Everyone believes there is no thing more difficult that the most difficult ... I have proof that this is wrong! I just found it! Trying to get thoughts out of my head is even more difficult than the most difficult part of 'standing up'. Ever tried this very old joke? The one where you say 'Don't think of Snape in a pink tutu!'? What do you do in the next moment? You imagine Snape in a pink tutu ... _horrible_! Absolutely and utterly DISGUSTING! Don't think about it! *grins* I bet 10 Galleons that you just did!

Even the drive in this wicked and amazing train-thing on high speed couldn't lift my spirits. That is the moment you know that there is something wrong with me! My vault was as always ... filled with hundreds and thousands of thick gold-coins, called Galleons and even more silver and bronze ones, called Sickles and Knuts. I took quite a bit and then left the bank, of course not without promising Ragnuk to come back and continue our conversation about goblin law and wishing him goodbye. On my way back to the 'Cauldron' I didn't pay attention to my surroundings, but it weren't my nightmares anymore I thought about ... it was my father! Had it been the right decision to not get the key? To not inform my father that I existed? It were this thoughts that held me awake as I tried to sleep that night. I wouldn't be able to cope if he would decide to ignore, abandon, or treat me as bad as the Dursleys did. All the reasons I've build myself to life, all these arguments I use to convince myself that my life is worth existing, would slip away ... fade into nothingness, like dust in the wind.

0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0

**1** I know ... I know! Before anyone makes comments about, how I shouldn't say anything negative about the German language: I am German myself! (Ich weiß mein Profil sagt Kanada ...)

I'm currently on a student exchange in Canada (...,aber das sollte Fragen darüber klären!) and every time one of my friends tries to imitate German the sounds they make have more resemblance with choking than

words just like I imagine that those goblins sound!

**2 **_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, _J. K. Rowling

**3 **_Dust in the wind_, Kansas, if you want to hear it just go on watch?v=tH2w6Oxx0kQ they may look like hippies, but I LUV 3 that song!


	2. 2 Entry: Of Snapes Other Problems

HEEY from the (more or less, or not even a bit) faraway country CANADA!

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**I don't own**

**You don't sue!**

YEEEEEEEEY I got my first review! THANK YOU VERY MUCH **Cassia4u!**

* * *

2. Entry: Of Snapes and other Problems

We chase misprinted lies  
We face the path of time  
And yet I fight  
And yet I fight  
This battle all alone  
No one to cry to  
No place to call home

My gift of self is raped  
My privacy is raked  
And yet I find  
And yet I find  
Repeating in my head  
If I can't be my own  
I'd feel better dead

**1**

It is easier to write all those things when I really imagine to be my younger self, it is absolutely amazing to forget what happened in the last few years. There was a time, we were in the middle of a war. Great people died, friends and strangers, both killed by Death Eaters and Ministry Workers alike. For months the Prophet was filled with obituaries for dead or missing people and sadly they were writing the truth. The Ministry had fallen and the Minister of Magic died on my 17th Birthday ... Isn't that great? Mouldy Shorts even send a letter to the Order that it was my _present _from him! That bloody BASTARD! So many died: Mr. Fordescue and Madam Malkim ... his ice salon and her shop were destroyed as the Death Eaters took Diagon Alley by assault. They fought bravely, but died ...they died _in vain. _It was my fault... all MY fault! I should've gone to HIM I should've given up ...YEARS ago! They were watching me at that time, every move I made was recorded. The Order and Mouldie's men both didn't leave my side for a second. I had no privacy anymore, but I didn't really care as long as it helped. Too many had been killed in the war: Neville's parents. I don't even know if it truly made a difference when they died, their minds had been dead long ago, they were killed by Malfoy Sr. as St. Mungo's fell to the Death Eaters. Hogwarts was closed for over a year. At least it hadn't been a school anymore. It was filled with wounded Aurors, the survivors of the Ministry and St. Mungo's. Many Muggleborns brought their parents for shelter and stayed with them, waiting for the war to end. I lived at the Burrow for month, doing nothing at all. It was one of the secret houses the Order used. Grimmault Place, Mad-Eye's house, the Tonks' house and some others spread over the country. A few were already taken, Dedalus Diggle had been burned in his own house. Shacklebold's house had been destroyed completely, Kingsley luckily survived. And Dumbledore our great saviour, the horror of all Death Eaters, had disappeared like a snowman under the burning summer sun...

But enough of this sad business and back to my fifth year (not that I want to say that _that _hadn't been sad business!):

My dreams that night were bad not a surprise, but nevertheless unwelcome:

_**Dream**_

_Cedric and I arrived at the graveyard ... a green light ... dead eyes ... screams. My (adoptive) father yelling ... my mother begging ... Voldy's cool high laugh ..._

_The scene shifted... _

_It was night, the full moon shimmered at the cloudless sky like a giant crystal ball ... I sometimes thought about the possibility, that the moon is watching us at night, like an enormous eye... some people say that he is so sad about the things that happen in the darkness that he tries to disappear every month, but never succeeds. _

_I wasn't able to sleep ... I didn't _want _to sleep. The nightmares would just haunt me again, I would have to see Cedric and Voldemort again. The clock in the Fourth Year Boys' Dorm showed 11:47 and the night was deadly quiet. I heard Neville snorting, Ron murmured something about tap dancing spiders and Dean muttered quite clearly: 'Red card, ref ... send him off the field...'. After a few minutes of internal struggle I decided to take a little walk in the cool air, to get the most terrible memories I had at that time out of my head... Hastily I put on my shoes, grabbed a warm robe to wear over my PJ's and, of course, my Invisibility Cloak. The hallways of Hogwarts were quiet and empty, I could only hear my own heart beating and my feet hitting the cold stone floor. Not even Mrs. Norris seemed to be on night guard for her annoying master. I thought about how careless those people are. The teachers didn't seem to even _think_ about the possibility that Voldemort could attack the next moment. But now, now I know how careless _I'_ve been! Outside of the protective walls of the Hogwarts castle a wolf howled. The main portal was left open ... Now it was sure to me that I was surrounded by a bunch of idiots. Were they actually _begging_ Voldemort to visit? But it also meant that I didn't had to take an annoyingly long trip through one of the secret passageways onto the grounds. Good for me ..._

_The cool air helped to clear my mind and I maundered down to the dark and calm lake, my thoughts free like birds, swirling around in my head. It had been month I had been that calm. With the Triwizard Tournament and all that ... stuff, I hadn't had a second to relax for quite some time. As I reached the corner of the Forbidden Forest I heard cracking branches and a deep, menacing growl to my right and whirled around. The next moment my feet were glued to the ground, I wasn't able to move, every inch of my body went stif. In front of me stood a big, intimidating wolf ... a _were_wolf. The worst thing of all was, that I _knew_ that beast! I had seen it before! It's fur was light brown, he looked nearly like a normal wolf, but what did Hermione say about that in that DADA class with Snape... something about the snout?_

_Mr. Lupin's hungry amber eyes glided over my body. My feet finally moved, but on their own accord as he lunched at me and I ran faster than I ever did in my life, Twigs scratched my arms and legs, thorns pierced through my clothes and into my flesh, but I didn't care, didn't turn around and on a wide clearance he finally got me. Its paws pressed into my shoulder blades as the monster hurled me to the ground, its weight nearly breaking my ribcage. I could feel its breath in my neck, his stinking wet breath. Moony was nearly careful as he bit, tearing through the muscles, flesh and bone of my left shoulder. I screamed my throat raw until blood dripped into my mouth as horrible pain shot through my body, pain worse than five Cruciatus Curses at once. My cries were muffled by the wet ground and grass, my face was pressed into. The heavy paws left my body and the world closed in and I blacked out._

_As I woke up the next morning . I couldn't believe what had happened, my shoulder was still bleeding and so heavy pain zoomed through me that I barely kept myself concious, the sun not even up and the forest-air clean and quiet. Memories of the last night drifted through my mind. I remembered the pain and nearly screamed again what I felt now was nothing compared that moment I had the teeth of Lupin's other side in my shoulder. It was throbbing, waves of nausea broke over me and filled my eyes with an undefinable blur, made my thoughts fuddled and disorientated, I nearly puked over myself. I would become a werewolf, every month I would turn into a mindless, raving beast. Without my minds approval I let out another scream, it wasn't really loud, rather like a little moan, but it was filled with pain and sorrow. Tears streamed down my face ... _

_**Dream End**_

Waking up with a start, my throat raw again, eyes watering and surroundings only blurry shapes I shot out of my bed. Every night the same dreams. First Cedric's death, then the Bite and sometimes also my parent's death. I can remember that night very clearly every detail, but not how I got back to the castle. I managed to bandage the arm somehow, to stop it from bleeding, with a few useful tips I'd got from an old library book. I was way too frightened to tell anybody. What would they think about me, after all? The next few days had been torture, the blood loss had made me permanently sleepy and the pain always reminded me of what would be. It were only a few days 'til the end of the school year and I was, the first time in four years, eager to leave the castle. People didn't ask why I was pale, they didn't ask anything at all actually, probably because they thought I had been through enough trouble (if you can call Mouldy's resurrection 'trouble'). Some teachers even excused me from class because of my paleness and I was way to quiet for their liking. Dumbly held some kind of touching speeches about Cedric's death, but I never really listened. I remembered enough of what actually happened to know that he died in vain, no one had to tell me that ...

I woke up so early that I instantly hoped that I hadn't woken anyone else up with my screams. It was nearly 5 o'clock, but that wasn't a time for normal people to be up on Sundays. I had everything planned. This afternoon at 2 o'clock I would curl myself up into a tiny ball, cast a locking, strengthening and some silencing charms (nobody detects underage magic near a busy magical street!) at the door and walls and pray that the potion would work (well, not necessarily in that order, it could be quite difficult to cast charms as a tiny ball). Sighing I looked around the room. It was as shabby as the pub below and everything looked quite fragile, but I would've to manage. Standing up, I decided to take a shower and 15 minutes later I stood completely dressed and refreshingly clean in the middle of the room. My looks had continued to change, my jawline now quite soft and my hair chestnut brown. I looked as much like Harry Potter as Draco Malfoy did, the scar hidden behind brown-amber streaks of hair that were glued on my forehead by sweat.

At this ungodly hour no shop would be opened so it wouldn't help to leave the room, which was a shame, because I really needed something to distract me. So I sat down in a chair, already feeling quite sleepy. I hadn't taken any books with me, because of the rush I had been in. My newly found hunger for them had grown stronger and I decided to pay a visit to Flourish&Blotts later to buy some new ones. I had to go there anyway to find out some information about Metamorphmagi. It was good that I had time to practice the ability Dursley-free (YEEAHHHAA!).

That was the moment I realized that Aunt Petunia wouldn't knock at the door and wake me up with that cruelly high voice which made her sound like a harpy, that Uncle Vernon wouldn't get all red and disgusting when he saw me and that Dudley couldn't even kick me for fun- I was FREE! There were no Bumble-fans to watch over me, no Weasleys to be overprotective and smother me. I could do what I wanted to. Nobody would know who I was, I wouldn't have to disguise my face, I could be MYSELF! I know I sound sappy, but sometimes you just need that as a hated celebrity. You have no idea how many times I saw my face with a negative headline under it on newspapers. 'The Boy-who-lied' was only one of them, 'Potter the Fraud' wasn't a bit nicer. They tossed my name around like kids sand (,being exactly as mature) and used it as swearword, just like the Nazis did to the Jews. I don't think they would like that comparison, but honestly: I don't care a bit. They treated me like a laughing stock and Bumbles even more. Dumbledore who they lifted into the clouds with praise and now, they let him fall to the ground, very deep. You know how high the nearest clouds develop? 6,500ft! Even the most powerful wizard would be only a puddle on the ground after that fall, a powerful-magician-puddle, yeah, but that wouldn't really make a difference, would it? (yeaaahh! My sarcasm was back! Hullo, sarcasm mine, how are you today?)

I stood up and started pacing (please, don't compare me to Bumbles pleeeaaase dooon't! (Yes, I am completely aware of the fact that I'm talking to myself!)) just like Dumbledore does in his office (ARG!). Back and forth, back and forth, between the small wardrobe and the door, leading to the rather dirty bathroom (_not_ my fault!). I had to wait a few hours to go to the shops. First the bookshop to get some information about Metamorphmagi and even more about Werewolves (*shudder*) then I would have to pay a visit to the Apothecary and buy some ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion, because I wouldn't be able to order it from Hogwarts, if the owls would be searched (*shudder again* some people might think I'm cold ... anyways), I don't want to imagine what would happen then! 'Potter the Fraud and Werewolf', I think that has a bad sound to it! Don't think of it, don't do it! I wanted to avoid that topic as much as I could until it is time. Some deranged people might probably say : It is time, dude! Your first transformation is this afternoon! Answer: Are you a hated celebrity/werewolf/defeater of Voldy/ I-don't-know-who-my-father-is boy? NO? What a surprise! Never could've imagined that! You behaved as if it was your business after all! Thought you would understand! *shruggs* Well if you don't ... why don't you just BUGGER OF?

* * *

Flourish&Blotts was packed and it wasn't even time for the school shopping-waves. The crammed room was not very good for my health. This morning I had started to feel the nearing full moon's effects: a dull headache, sleepiness and even less control over my temper than I normally have (I nearly hexed a young pink-haired witch that had bumped into me and yelled at her for at least three minutes) and it would get worse with every minute that passed. One of the books about werewolves I had read, that wasn't solely about how to find and kill one, said the werewolf should spend at least the last two hours in bed. That was an hour from now, enough time to buy everything I needed. I had spend quite some time just sitting in my room, staring at the opposite wall or ceiling, feeling kind of sleepy and a bit depressed.

Is Metamorphmagus under the 'M''s in normal books or the 'Dark Creatures' rubric of the shop? It would take _hours _to go to both, the longest part of it would be the attempt to go through the crowds of people _un_harmed! I decided for the first one. Metamorphmagi aren't exactly 'Dark Creatures', are they? I squeezed myself through the tiny hole between two old ladies who continued to babble rather animatedly over my head in the _middle_ of the freakin' _doorway_ (I was getting angry again, but restrained myself from screaming bloody murder, something in the back of my mind told me to rip them into pieces ... creepy ... huh?) and wiggled through the ocean of people. It took nearly 10 minutes for me to arrive at the bookshelf with the big 'M' printed on a sign above it. Mhhh... 'Muggle', too far. 'Merepeople' ... there it was. It were only two books, but who cares if they are good? (to those who don't know: this was a rhetorical question! Don't shout 'I do' even if you do! (which also sounds like I just made you a marriage proposal. I didn't, by the way)) 'Metamorphmagi over the centuries'? This seemed to be a list of registered Metamorphmagi and their achievements, why not? I could help me with the search for my ancestors, it is a hereditary skill after all. 'How to become a Metamorphmagus: For Dummies'? Hell, yes! That sounded exactly like what I had expected to find! I turned around and, sighting, hurled myself back into my own personal war against the much too big masses.

Ten minutes later I stood in front of the shop, extremely exhausted, rather ruffled, my hair looking quite Potter-like (ohhh nooo, not again! I had just lost that just-out-of-bed-look!) and the sun shining down on me from the clear blue summer sky. I felt sleepy and a slight nausea crept over me, leaning for support against the shop's wall I took a deep breath to avoid puking over the street (and the people passing me). Slowly I strolled down the street in the direction of the Apothecary, slightly reeling and thinking about the fact that it may not have been a good idea to go shopping so shortly before my first transformation. No-one noticed me, the good thing: No paparazzi and unwanted attention (that are two things, but ... who cares?), the bad one: I couldn't say 'Hello' to people I liked and saw on my way. Such as Neville and his Grandmother who stood in front of an old looking shop for robes, he as always clutching his toad and, she ...bellyaching about something (the woman always reminds me of the Snape-Boggart in my third year). I also wanted to greet Mr. Fordescue, the nice guy who helped me with my History essay two years ago ...

In the Apothecary it took quite some time to look around and find my ingredients, not because it was full, no, there were only a few costumers, but because I could choose between a LOT of differently conserved stuff. Flobberworm Mucus, Pufferfish Eyes, Dried Nettles, Bat Spleens, Valerian Sprigs, Lavender, Horklump Juice, Mistletoe Berries, Valerian Sprigs, Spines of Lionfish, Lethe River Water no wonder this potion tastes so disgusting, with all this glibbery stuff in it... yuck! I found most of them, my dizziness growing with every step and I barely managed to avoid breaking any of those with glibber filled jars and wreck total havoc with my new found clumsiness until I met. Well, who do you think I would meet in an Apothecary? SNAPE, of course! Who do I absolutely not want to meet in _any_ place? SNAPE, of course! (Now, please don't think Snape is the answer to every question. After all you don't want to end up on a party with that gigantic bat, because someone asked you who he should invite to it and you answered 'SNAPE, of course'! You DON'T!) Well, I didn't really met him. I more like knocked him of his feet as I wanted to leave after paying and it wasn't even my fault! He stood behind me and I turned around maybe a bit too fast, but I don't have eyes in the back of my head (not yet ... who knows what will come with those amber hair?). But all those things aside, at whom did he scream? No, not at his miserable own self, NO, at _me, _the absolutely and utterly misunderstood Boy-Who-Lied! My luck reeeeaaaly sucks! Glaring at me, fire in his eyes he picked himself up. Good that he didn't recognize me as Harry Potter, he probably would have decapitated me or _worse_, told Bumbles where I was! So I just ended up backed into an extremely small corner, between extremely glibbery stuff by an extremely angry Potions Master!

'What do you think you are doing, _boy_?'

Ohhh, I HATE it when people call me BOY! I have a NAME you know? It's not as if it is an ugly one, but even then, why don't you just find another one, Uncle? I really had to fight myself to keep as polite as possible and that wasn't much so I decided to mumble some incoherent words.

'I-I ... euhhh ...searched for ingredients ... just wanted to leave, p – sir!'

Good that he didn't catch my slip! I nearly sighed with relieve, nearly! It wouldn't be good if he knew I'm in Hogwarts ... he never saw me like this and ... well he doesn't really like 'Harry Potter', does he? I just wanted to go to my room and avoid any confrontations. My patient's level was as low as the thickness of a hydrogen atom and I wouldn't be any good in a physical fight and even less a duel, remembering as much spells as Gregory Goyle. Only at that moment not _all_ the time! That would be truly frightening, because I would have escaped from Mouldy Shorts _four_ times with that knowledge while way stronger and wiser people didn't.

'Of course you did? What else could you do in an apothecary? If you were a student of me, Mr. -' The sarcasm literally dripped of his voice now ..., as always.

'Smith!' I weakly piped in.

'... Mr. _Smith _(he sneered) ... you would serve detention with me until the end of the school year!'

'But the school hasn't even started yet!'

He growled and I slightly backed away. Using this chance to slightly lean against a wall, which was the only thing that helped me to remain standing. It wouldn't be any good if I collapsed in front of my most hated teacher. Besides being humiliating he would also question, as a Dark Arts specialist (that isn't a positive comment ... I didn't say _Defence Against_ the dark arts, after all) he would ask himself why I had all the symptoms of Moon-sickness with an approaching full moon. His cold black eyes glared into my green ones and as I looked away he snapped:

'Don't get cheeky with me Smith. Where are your guardians? I want to have a word with them ... about your ... _behaviour _(Insert Snape-patented sneer here)_._'

'They're not here, sir!'

'Not here?'

His eyebrows rose until they disappeared behind the curtains of greasy black hair that fell into his face. Quite an ugly sight if you ask me. But you never do that anyways! Who does? I am the Boy-who-Lied after all! No one thinks about me! (Yes, I know I am being melodramatic, but that I was only fifteen years old and a teenager)

'Yes, sir ... _not here_!'

I pronounced the words as if he was a small toddler just learning to speak. Yes, I know (I know maaany things) I wanted to avoid quarrels, but I just couldn't resist. Snape grew impatient again, ooookay he is _always_ impatient!

'And what pray tell does 'not here' mean?'

'Euh well, here is the place we are at the moment and not is the ne-...'

'Don't give me a definition of the words, you idiot boy! I want to know where you parents are, NOW!'

I didn't really register what Snape wanted from me, but mocking him was soooo much fun! I knew I shouldn't, but I didn't really _think_, my mind all foggy and without any ordered thoughts. Where are my relatives? What cshould I say?

'Not here?'

Now his eyes blazed like lightening. Can obsidian burn? If yes I bet it looks exactly like the my favourite Potions Master's eyes at that moment! Snape reached into his robes and pulled his wand holding its tip between my eyes.

'You don't want me angry Smith! WHERE – ARE – YOUR – RELATIVES? Or are you to dumb to answer that easy question?'

I squinted at his wand not trusting the man to not loose his temper (well ... he actually just had, but I mean _really_ loose his temper) and send some nasty dark curse straight to my head, but arguing about him lowering it would probably only make him angrier (if that was possible). To get hit by a spell and possibly being unconscious during full moon, transforming in front of others. NONONO definitely NOT, but as I said I didn't think clearly and my mind screamed war as the memories of all the time this man had mocked and bullied me swapped into my mind like waves. My subconscious told me to fight back, tackle him or throw an even more evil course at him than the ex-Death Eater could imagine, rip him to pieces with my claws ... euhh hold a moment there! What? Claws? But my brain luckily won this time.

'In London!'

Snape smirked ... (ohhh how I hate that sight) and lowered his wand (finally!). I started to slide down the wall, my last reserves leaving me.

'Well, we are in London, Mr. Smith in case you haven't noticed with the small amount of brain you seem to have. You should be able to show me the way to your parents then!'

'London is big, sir!'

I blinked up at him with innocent eyes, trying to imitate a puppy ..., but that was clearly Sirius' speciality not mine. I HAD to get out of here, I HAD to keep my temper!

'And _what _do you want to tell me with that?'

'Euhh ... it is a long way!'

I just started to realize what Snape planned on doing ... he wanted to see my relatives? (Yes, I know he said that ten minutes or so ago, but I was reeeealy slow before that full moon ... hasn't changed at all actually) _Nooo, I can't lead him to my relatives! They would kill me ... after Snape did when he finds out who I am._

'So, so ... a long way? And where are they?'

'Somewhere shopping, sir!'

Seriously? If he just had a TINY piece of brain he would know that no Muggle-shop would be open on a SUNDAY! But you know, he wasn't really blessed with the gift of intelligence ...

'And where is _somewhere_?'

'I don't know, sir!'

'And why couldn't you tell me that you don't know where your parents are at the beginning of this ridiculous discussion?'

Ridiculous ... huh? Do you think this is a joke? My subconscious yelled at me to hex the man into the next century or said it ... tear him apart with your claws?! Claws again? What is it about those thingies? I freakin' don't have CLAWS! Do you understand that, my dear subconscious?

'I ... don't know?' It was more a question than an answer.

'You don't know? Well ... I will bring you to the 'Leaky Cauldron' then ... I hope you know where _that_ is!'

I lowered my head and stared at the dirty floor of the apothecary to hide the symptoms of intense thinking that were currently shown in my facial expression (faraway gaze, blank face ... etc., but maybe that was just the Moon-sickness ...). I had to somehow find a way to wiggle out of this mess. Tom would probably tell Snape that I had booked a room in the 'Cauldron', if we went there and why was Snape interested in seeing my parents anyway? But to flee wasn't an option either. What if Snape chose to ask the barkeeper about me, found out everything and waited there for me at the bar? I don't want to think about what might happen ... I slowly reached to the pocket of my way to big hand-me-down sweeter that had belonged to my whale-like cousin Dudley and looked like it, to feel for my father's (nooo ... wait, actually it is adoptive father!) Invisibility Cloak that was squished inside of it, only to make sure that it was still there. To my enormous relieve it was, next to a few dirty-feeling and ripped scrabs of parchment and sand. How did that sand get into my pocket? After a few second of quick thinking (well, it might not have been that quick) I settled upon hostility and looked Snape straight into his eyes my mind racing with all the occasions the man had insulted my (adoptive) father or me.

'And why should you do that?'

I deliberately abdicated the 'sir'. It could've been an illusion of the light, but I had the impression that a flicker of surprise fluttered over Snape's face as he glared into my eyes until I broke the contact.

'To talk to your guardians, of course. I didn't realize that you are that slow, Mr. Smith!' He spat the last words.

'And why do you want to talk to my guardians?'

'That is none of your business Smith!'

'And why isn't it?'

'Because it is only business between your parents and me!'

'You can't have business with my parents, 'cause you don't know them!'

I know I must've sounded quite childish, but then I had the mental ability of a 5 year old (In a way I just compared those _poor_ 5 year old children to Crabbe and Goyle, ... nooo, they are way more intelligent than that! ... The five-year-olds, ...not Crabbe and Goyle) so it wasn't really something you should be surprised about. Snape grabbed my arm and started to drag me towards the door. I immediately drew my wand and pressed it against his chest, nearly loosing my balance, having enough of how Snape treated me, enough of his petty games.

'Let me go! THIS INSTANT!'

'Should I be frightened, Smith (Is he MOCKING me? Really is that a question, myself? Of course, he is.)? You are not allowed to use magic outside of whatever school you are attending if you aren't of age!'

'Who said I was attending _any_ school? And who old do you think I am?'

I had had a rather extreme growth spurt this summer and I was as tall as some of the smaller seventh years. My wand remained pointing at his chest though my body was shaking with exhaustion, my hand didn't waver. I thought it to be more polite than sticking it in someone's face and was quite astound that the shopkeeper hadn't thrown us out of his shop yet with all the threatening, growling and ... stuff. See! That means I had enough braincells left to _wonder_!

'You have to attend _some_ school, Smith!'

'I was home-schooled!'

'There are no home-schooled children living in Britain!' (Why does he even care?)

'Who says I live in Britain?'

'Where do you life then, Smith?'

'That is none of your business!'

He started to growl again. Which is a quite annoying habit if you ask me ... wait what time is it? I looked at my watch and nearly coursed out loud ... only two hours! I'd planned on being in bed by now! I didn't notice that it took me so long. Walking along the street, maybe ten minutes at most, in Flourish&Blotts, around twenty minutes (the queue had been _miles_ long). That would be thirty minutes here ... NO WAY! No wonder I felt so sick, just that moment I my stomach rebelled. Ohh, nooo, not here! As I nearly puked, my mind suddenly started to work clearly (Is that some kind of crazy werewolf trick? I normal get all dizzy and stuff from nausea!) and I realized with shock, that there was no time to hesitate or to make any plans. I had to go NOW or else I wouldn't make it to my room and would not be able to cast the necessary charms and drink the last part of the Wolfsbane Potion.

'I don't know who you are, Smith, but you are really starting to annoy m – SMITH!'

I began to run. Not really fast, but fast enough to have some lead over Snape. I must've looked quite ... mhh ... lets say _unique_ running/reeling down the street, staggering and stumbling as if drunk with an angry Potions Master at my heals, his black robes bellowing behind him like wings emphasizing his similarities to a bat, because all kinds of people stared at us with amusement, shock or other undefinable facial expressions.

'SMITH! You will STOP RUNNING ... **NOW**!'

Why does he think he can order me around? Of course I didn't do what he wanted, but run/reeled straight into the next alley, when he nearly caught up to me, pulled out my Invisibility Cloak and swished it over my head covering my whole body in the exact moment Snape turned around the corner. He looked livid, even more than he had in my second year the class I'd thrown fireworks in Malfoy's cauldron. As he saw the 'empty' alleyway he stopped dead (YEAH!) in track (Booo!).

'Where is he? ... SMITH, WHERE ARE YOU? ARE WE PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK NOW?'

I slowly squeezed myself out of the frightening small darkness onto the lively main street, nearly grazing Snape, (nearly! Watch that word!). My feet got heavier with every step. I glanced at my watch, only one hour and fifty-five. I sincerely hoped that the potion would work and if not that my spells would prevent me from destroying the whole room or bursting through the door, attacking the pub's visitors. They would kill me. I was just a monster without feelings after all, without coincidence, a mindless beast ready to kill every moment. The way to my room felt about 20 miles long, but it were only 500ft. My breath got faster and as I nearly fell through my room's door I threw up all over the cheap-looking and bad-made rug, the smell of vomit making the nausea even worse. I stumbled into the bathroom, knelt down in front of the shower and released everything out of my stomach into it. After dealing with my breakfast a second time, I started to search for the repelling (Didn't want someone entering while I'm transformed ...), locking and strengthening spells, I had written them down somewhere on that piece of parch- ... Ahhh there they were. _Repello Hominis, Firmo Lignis, Claudeo, Deprimo Stepitis. _**2**The tip of my wand glew after every word and I let out a relieved sigh when I tried to open the door, but wasn't able to. I took the last vial of Wolfsbane and dumped it down my thoat in one swift movement. Lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling I waited as the clock on the wall ticked as if it wanted to remind me that the full-moon had nearly risen. The time flew by like a hunting hawk and soon I had only five minutes left ...

Have you ever had a broken bone? Do you know how much it hurts? Then imagine every single bone in your body breaking and then shifting, ripping through muscles and veins as if they were butter.

I had just made myself comfortable on the ground (I had no intention to ruin the bed) as the pain began, like knives boring through my skin, fire running through my veins, I felt every single molecule in my body melting and reforming. It was pain like I've never felt before, not even as the Basilisk tooth stuck into my arm, as Voldemort touched my head after his resurrection, not even as I was bitten or as Mouldy used the Cruciatus Curse on me. It was absolutely _terrible_ and I suddenly understood why werewolves went mad like that. Their existence was build on pain, it started with it and every time the wolf broke through they caused even more of it. I wasn't even able to scream properly. I was in shock. I had to endure this _every_ month until I died? How did Lupin manage to stay alive? My thoughts went blurry and then totally disappeared as my body lengthened, claws exchanged fingernails and I paws grew where hands and feet had been. I have no idea how long it lasted, but somehow I managed to keep my mind. Well, _nearly_ the whole one and I knew that the potion had worked.

At the end of the transformation I lay on the dusty floor, panting, my fur (Weird to think that, isn't it?) swept up the dirt like a brush. I was surprised, that I'd even needed the potion. I was way to exhausted to even move a single claw and I totally aware of the fact that I wouldn't be able to stand up the whole night. The only positive thing to say about my ... _situation_ was that my vision got as razorsharp and I could hear practically everything! Of course that had to have a more than unpleasant side-effect: My head nearly exploded from the information that burst into it. I could hear people laughing downstairs (The Muffling Charm only worked one way.), smell the food from the kitchen (The flesh was of course the most interesting!) and I could even see more dirt on the floor than I'd noticed before! The whole time I was spread out on the ground, my breathing getting more regular after some time, something in my mind urged me to kill, rip, tear, bite and destroy everything that got under my claws. The thoughts drifting through my still quite foggy mind frightened me to the core. They were about violence and death. It was as if a whole new and quite _different _person or _animal _was now sharing my body with me ...

* * *

I woke up 5 in the morning and felt extremely drained ... as if every drop of water had been sucked out of my body (or Dracula came for a visit). My muscles were sore and I had a horrible headache. Until I had transformed back into a human I'd laid curled up as a tiny furry ball in the middle of the room, the floor cold under my way too skinny body. As my bones started to break again while the moon set I had finally let out a terrible howl of pain, which quickly changed into a bloodcurdling scream and was glad about the charms I had adjusted. I managed with quite a few problems to get onto the bed and lay down. But despite the fact that I was terribly tired I couldn't sleep. Thoughts whirled through my mind summing like angry bees and fighting for my attention like small children on a playground:

_Would it get easier? I could turn myself in to Voldemort. Everything better than this ... this _torture _EVERY SINGLE MONTH! How do other werewolves manage? How does _Lupin_ manage? Why do I have such a damn fucked up life? Why is it _always _ME? The Philosopher's Stone ... the Chamber of Secrets ... a 'MURDERER' (even if he didn't really want to kill me) on my heels ... the Triwizard Tournament ... werewolf ... ALWAYS ME! WHY? WHY CAN'T JUST SOMEBODY ELSE BE BUMBLES FREAKIN' PAWN? I don't want this anymore! I could just go ... go and never come back! To the States, Canada ... Australia ... EVERY WHERE, but HERE! Here ... there is a war I never chose to participate in ... a man, NO a whole nation that thinks it owns my life ... a killing maniac who desperately wants to kill me for FIFETEEN YEARS and killed my PARENTS! There is a minister that is badmouthing me in every second sentence... the whole school does probably hate me, because I tell the bloody TRUTH! I have enough of this! ENOUGH of my life! Wouldn't it be for Hermione, Ron, Sirius and maybe some other Weasleys I would've killed myself MONTH ago! It would've spared me so much pain and sorrow ... Why did my parents have to die? Why did Mouldy choose to kill them anyway? They were just two more fighters for Bumble's cause! He didn't go after Sirius, did he? And now they use my name as a symbol for a whole IDEA! A few month ago for the CHANCE that evil can be destroyed by light, that Mouldy was killed ... and now ... , because their saviour-boy says something frightening and possibly deadly they call me crazy ... bedlam and stuff like that! Back-stabbing ASSHOLES! They use me as a toy, but when the toy gets too serious they throw it away like trash! I am NOT trash ... I think ... They just don't REALIZE that I'm my own PERSON! MY OWN! I have feelings and thoughts and memories! Can you imagine that? Harry Potter, the BWL, the loony-liar suddenly a HUMAN BEING? NO! NOT possible! If they'd known where I lived they would've been around 24/7! I wouldn't have had a quiet SECOND! They think I am property of them! And now ... and ... well ... now they would shun me even more at the very THOUGHT of me being a werewolf! They would be shocked that THEIR property had been destroyed ... would probably instantly search for the one who bit me and if they find him, ... subject him to the Dementor's Kiss without a trial ... I can't do that to Lupin ... He didn't do it on purpose, did he? I mean he had no control over the wolf, right? But anyway ...they wouldn't really care 'bout my wrecked life ... my FEELINGS, but the idea that their fallen hero is a monster ... So well, we'll see ... If I can't be my own, I'd feel better dead ..._

0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0

**1 **_Nutshell,_ Alice In Chains

**2 **_Repello Hominis: _I push humans away.

_Firmo Lignis: _I strengthen the wood.

_Claudeo: _I lock.

_Deprimo Stepitis: _I muffle noises.

It's shorter than my last one ... yeah, but what can I do? If I have any grammar or spellingmistakes in here ... please tell me, I'm here to learn! ;)

R&R ... DON'T BE SHY! COME ON!


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